


ready to suffer, ready to hope

by bemusedlybespectacled (ardentintoxication)



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, BDSM, Begging, Coitus Interruptus, Dom/sub, Explicit Consent, F/M, Face-Sitting, First Time, Foreplay, Gentle Sex, Ignored Safeword, Kink Negotiation, Kinky, Maleval NSFW Week, Masochism, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Passion, Past Abuse, Phone Sex, Sadism, Safewords, Service Submission, Teasing, in which I continue to write anti-50 Shades porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-17 18:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2318744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentintoxication/pseuds/bemusedlybespectacled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Looking for heaven, found the devil in me</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Well, what the hell? I'm gonna let it happen to me</i>
</p><p>She's a sadistic dom. He's a masochistic service sub. Together, they <s>fight crime</s> have kinky sex.</p><p>For Maleval NSFW Week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mawgon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mawgon/gifts).



> My hope with this fic is to be the anti-Fifty Shades of Grey: a fic written by an actual kinky person, demonstrating Risk Aware Consensual Kink, with a female dom and male sub rather than the other way around. Despite that, please don't use anything in this fic as a manual. I'm still learning myself, every day.

For someone whose screenname literally means "evildoer," she's not very physically intimidating: he's got at least six inches and several pounds on her, and he could definitely take her in a fight given the chance. But he's been on enough dates with her to know that she has steel hidden in her voice and in her spine, and that, coupled with his trust in her, is why he's standing in her bedroom, stripped down to his underwear, waiting for her to hit him.

"No cuffs tonight," she says. "Your safeword is 'red,' but I'll listen to anything else you say, including 'stop' or 'no.' If you prefer colors, 'yellow' is to slow down and 'green' is an all-clear. This is- I guess we could call it a test run. I'll probably ask you how you feel, during, and we'll talk more afterwards." She searches his face. "How do you feel now?"

"Excited. Bit scared. I don't think you're going to hurt me, at least, not in a way I won't like." He thinks a bit before adding, "So, green?"

"Good," she says. She walks backwards until her knees brush the edge of the bed, but she doesn't sit down. Not yet. Her posture changes slightly, and there's a different tenor to her voice when she says, "Kneel for me."

Diaval hesitates for a moment - honestly, his first inclination is to drop to his knees where he stands, her effect is that strong - before walking over to her and kneeling at her feet. He keeps his eyes on the floor.

"Good," she says again. Her hand finds its way into his hair, somewhere between a pet and a massage. His eyes flutter closed as he practically melts into her touch, and she chuckles. "You like this?"

"Mmhmm."

"You like me petting you, or is it just touching your hair?"

"Both."

They stay like that for a moment before Mal turns away. "On the bed, arms outstretched and holding the footboard, facing down."

He scrambles to obey her, though it feels a bit unnatural to lie in bed backwards. He grips the footboard's posts to ground himself. _You sought this out_ , he reminds himself. _You chose this._

"Let me just..." She rummages under the bed, pulls something out from under it. Standing to the side of the bed, she traces something on his skin, down his back. "This is a riding crop. It gives me more reach than my hands would. If I were to use it at full strength, I'd likely leave welts, but for now, I'll start slow."

The first slap is firm, muffled somewhat by his underwear.

"That's only a flick of my wrist. I can, however-"

The next is harder, though still manageable, catching him on his left shoulder.

"-hit harder and higher. I will not hit you from the base of your ribs to your tailbone, and if I do, tell me. The last thing I want is for you to get kidney damage your first time." Another harsh slap on his ass. "Where are you right now?"

"Green."

The next one strikes his other shoulder. She works her way down, skipping his lower back, then hits his ass, concentrating on the curve of his thigh. She builds up a steady rhythm, the slaps ringing out in the otherwise silent room until one strikes the same place twice and Diaval cries out involuntarily. Almost immediately afterwards he stiffens. Was he supposed to do that? She didn't say whether it was okay to make noise, but maybe he should have been anyway-

"I didn't tell you to be silent," she says, her voice cutting through his inner monologue. "For this one, you can be as loud as you want."

The next blows are harder, still at the same unrelenting pace, but they're not as bad as they were before. There's something, Diaval realizes slowly, that feels good about them, a spark of pleasure with the pain. That feeling rises, carrying him higher and higher, until Diaval can't speak anymore, he's not even thinking, the bedposts fall from his boneless hands and sounds are tumbling out of his mouth and he can't control them but they're not pained, he's laughing, he can't stop laughing, he's flying, he's flying-

She stops. He doesn't want her to.

"Diaval?"

The world is ringing. "Mmmhmm?"

"Where are you right now?"

"Green," slurs Diaval. "S'very nice."

"Okay," she says, a hint of amusement in her voice. "What do you need right now?"

His eyes had closed at one point and he hadn't even noticed. Opening them brings light rushing in, almost more than he can stand. Everything is sharper, somehow. His mouth is dry. "Water?"

"Can you wait a few minutes while I get it?"

"Mmmhmm."

He drifts for a while, not quite sleeping, just sinking into the softness of the mattress and drifting in the afterglow of whatever it is that he's coming down from. Adrenaline? Probably. Her hands are lifting him up, pressing a straw into his mouth, and her hand skims his back, still sensitive from everything, now almost raw and aching. He sips enough to wet his mouth, to clear his head a bit, then lets go.

"Do you need anything else?" she says, and he doesn't want to really think right now. Mostly he just wants to curl up in a warm, round ball and not move for a while.

"Is it okay if we... uh, cuddle? Just sort of..." He makes a vague gesture at the bed but can't really form the words to explain.

"Of course." She guides him under the covers and curls around him, though he notices that she herself lies on top of them. "We'll talk about how that went in more detail when you can make full sentences, but I take it you enjoyed it?"

There is nothing he wants more right now than to sleep, but he nods anyway. "Uh-huh. Wanna do it again."

Her fingers curl in his hair again. "Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being only able to draw from my own personal experience, going through a good scene as a masochist feels a bit like a combination of being on a roller coaster and drinking a lot of caffeine. It's a very heady feeling where everything seems both heightened and muffled at the same time, and for me, at least, it really does feel like flying.


	2. Foreplay

It's eight on a Saturday night and he's just finished putting the dishes away. Mal is in the living room, putting in a movie. She likes David Attenborough documentaries and action films with lots of explosions and gunfights. He likes epic fantasies and screwball comedies. They've settled on _Some Like It Hot._

When he comes into the living room, she's already on the couch. He settles on the floor by her feet, his head resting on her knee, and her hand finds its own way into his hair.

They're not quiet - Diaval laughs loudly and Mal keeps making snarky comments - but they're comfortable. They haven't known each other very long, but somehow he's more comfortable this way than he's been with anyone else before.

"Diaval," she says, after the film is over. "Come up here."

He's a bit stiff after being in the same position for so long, but he manages. Her hand on the back of his neck pulls him forward, and she bites down on his lower lip so quickly he doesn't have time to react, instead falling into an open-mouthed kiss before he can even think. She slips her tongue into his mouth for him to suck on and moans when he does.

She's just pulled his T-shirt off and starting to undo his belt when her phone rings. She checks the caller ID. "Work," she says as an explanation, answering it. "Hello? Oh, hello, Abilene... yes, I did, they're on my desk. Yes. Yes. No, not until Monday. You're welcome. Bye."

She hangs up and rolls her eyes. "One of my co-workers. She's the sort of person who forgets people have lives outside of work that don't like to be interrupted, and she can't do anything without calling me for advice about it."

"Understandable," he says.

"Now," she asks, "where were we?"

There's something about making out on a couch like teenagers, something easy and simple that doesn't require much thought or rules or protocol. It's a long, slow progression from him losing his pants to her losing her shirt, one marked with bites where his neck meets his shoulder and friction from her fingers tugging at his nipples. She leaves a row of wine-colored bruises along his collarbone and sucks on them until he gasps, feeling him grow hard beneath her.

He worships each of her breasts with his mouth, laving each nipple with his tongue. "That's right," she says, "just like that." She holds his head to her by the hair, steering him lower down-

The phone makes a plaintive ringing noise from its spot on the coffee table.

"Hold on," she says, an edge of irritation in her voice as she picks it up. "Hello? Hi, Mari. No, Abilene was supposed to do that. If you want me to go over it with you, I can on Monday- okay. Not unless we get those forms from Dana, I don't think so. Look, Mari, how about you come to my office Monday morning and we discuss this? I'm rather busy right now. Okay. Okay, great. Bye."

Pressing the "end call" button doesn't have quite the same emphasis that slamming a phone down on its receiver does, but Mal tries, regardless. "Another one of my co-workers. Also can't do anything without someone holding her hand."

"How do they manage to breathe without you?" asks Diaval, grinning.

"It's nothing short of miraculous," Mal replies. "Now get down here."

He kisses the inside of both ankles, moving upward until he reaches her knees. He bites the insides of her thighs and moves upwards until his tongue is where she wants him most.

"Um," says Diaval, looking up at her, "is it okay if we try you on top of me?"

Mal raises her eyebrows. "No one's sat on your face before?" Diaval shakes his head. She grins. "Very well."

He backs up so that he's lying down full length on the couch, letting Mal kneel with one leg and brace her other foot on the floor. "Slap my thigh if you need air, or need to safeword out for any reason," she says. "Do you understand?"

Diaval nods. "Yes, mistress."

She lowers herself down onto him, and his tongue between her legs is perfect. She grinds against his face, against his tongue, moving closer and closer to her peak as he sucks harder-

The phone rings shrilly.

Mal jumps, almost losing her balance. She braces herself on the arm of the couch, swinging her leg around Diaval's head to stand up properly. She walks over to the phone and picks it up, murder in her eyes.

"Moor here. Yes? Hi, Tessa. Yeah, she called me. I'd be quite happy to discuss it on Monday. Look, why don't you call Abilene and Mari about it? I'm sure they know much more about it than I do. Yes. Okay. No, you may not, you may wait until Monday. Okay. Bye."

She hangs up the phone, sighing. "They're hopeless. A disgrace to the entire organization." She sits down on couch with a sigh.

"Do you want to-?"

She shakes her head. "It's going to take me a while to get back into the right headspace for orgasming, if that makes sense."

Diaval slides up next to her. "Would a back massage make things any better?"

Mal does not respond the way he would expect from someone offered a back rub. Something passes across her face for a moment before she turns around. "Yes, actually. But..." She gestures awkwardly at her back. "Don't touch right there."

Diaval looks. He has to. They've had sex before, but always with his hands pinned over his head or cuffed behind his back. He wonders now if this was why: on her back are two jagged, parallel scars.

Diaval's hands settle on the tops of her shoulders. "Okay." He bites his lip before continuing. "Any particular reason why?"

"Yes."

"Is it something you want to talk about?"

"Not right now."

"Okay," he says. "That's fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly did not expect this to manifest a plot, but it did! I am just as surprised as the rest of you.


	3. Teasing

She sends him the text Friday evening.

_I have to cancel our date tomorrow. Unexpected business trip._

_OK_ , he texts back. _Unexpected?_

_Filling in for a coworker, so I get to spend a whole week with the three idiots. Let joy be unconfined._

_I'll make it up to you when you get back_ , he types. She doesn't text him back for ten minutes, and he's almost forgotten it when his phone buzzes.

_Yes, you will._

* * *

When they compared kinks and drew up boundaries, she'd said that she isn't into chastity, at least not the sort with a cage and a key. Too much effort, she'd told him at the time. But this isn't chastity, exactly, just her asking and him agreeing not to come while on her trip. Honestly, he doesn't even notice it for the first few days.

She sends him a text on Tuesday while he's getting lunch. _They've told us that this building is LEED Certified Platinum three times._

_Glad you're having fun._

_When do you get home?_

She's planning something, then. _6ish?_

The reply is almost immediate. _Good_.

_What do you want me to do?_

_I'll tell you when I'm back in my hotel, not somewhere LEED Certified._

_Texting during work, mistress?_

_I'm taking shelter in the bathroom. I'll call you later._

She does, later that evening. "Touch yourself," she whispers over the phone. "Let me hear you. But remember, you still can't come." When he hears the sharp breath that marks her climax, she laughs.

* * *

There's a pattern, after that. She'll text him in the morning, something innocent about what she has planned for the day and a brief allusion to the fact that she has plans for that night as well. She'll take refuge in bathroom stalls and step out of the room during coffee breaks to vent to him throughout the day.

And then, at night, she'll call. They'll talk about how their days went, their plans for when she comes back, and then she'll segue into what she would do to him now if not for the distance. She'll tease him, whisper filthy things into the receiver, and remind him at the end of it all that he's not allowed to do anything about it.

"I love this hotel room," she says on Thursday night, apropos of nothing. "Especially since I have it all to myself."

"Uh, mistress," says Diaval, "before we start, may I tell you something?"

"...yes?"

"Last night," he says, "I... had a wet dream. And I came. In my sleep. I'm sorry."

Silence on the other end of the phone. Then, "Okay."

"I know you told me not to come," he says, shame staining his cheeks, "but... I was asleep."

More silence. "Do you think," she says eventually, "that I'm going to punish you for coming without my permission?"

"Yeah," says Diaval. "I mean, I didn't do what you asked."

Mal's sigh sounds like static. "I trust you when you say it wasn't something you could control," she says. "And I wouldn't even if it was, because we haven't negotiated a punishment dynamic. I wouldn't do something that we hadn't talked about first."

"Okay."

"Do you _want_ to be punished?" she asks.

"I don't know," says Diaval. "I just felt like I was going to disappoint you."

"And do you think being punished would make me feel less disappointed, or make you feel better about my being disappointed in you?"

"Both, I think?" says Diaval. "I don't know, I didn't really think past 'I screwed up'."

"We can talk about it more when I get home," she says. "Right now, I want you to take your pants off."

Diaval rushes to obey her, shucking everything off in one movement.

"Touch yourself," she orders him. He obeys her. "Does it feel good?"

Diaval gives a huff of frustration. "You know it does."

"I wish I was there, to be the only hand touching your cock, to be the only one who can make you come."

He moans. "But mistress," he says, "how can you do that if I'm - _ah_ \- on my knees? With my tongue between your legs and my fingers deep inside you..."

When he hears his mistress coming, he, too, is close, hurtling towards the point of no return.

"Mistress, I need to stop, I'm going to-"

"Take your hand away."

Diaval whines in frustration, but he does.

"Good," she says. "You're doing so well for me."

"Thank you, mistress."

"I'll see you on Saturday, my pet."

* * *

He picks her up promptly at noon on Saturday.

Ordinarily, he's a very tactile person, very free to hold hands or slip an arm around a waist. But this- this is torture. Every touch is magnified by ten, even if it's only the brush of her hair against his arm or her fingers slipping just under his shirt to touch the small of his back. Mal is very particular about where his hands may wander, and ordinarily he respects that without issue, but now his hands can't seem to stop roaming, and it takes extra effort to not let them stray down to her ass or up to her breasts. He presses soft, chaste kisses to her hands, to her cheeks and forehead, to the side of her neck, anywhere he can reach, whenever he can, and it's _not enough_ , it's not enough at all and he could go mad from the frustration of it.

Throughout the day, he gets bolder. He plays footsie under the table with her at the restaurant, wraps both arms around her waist in the darkness of the cinema, holds her closer to him when it starts to rain on their walk back to his car.

When he opens the door for her, she stops, pressing up against him and slipping a hand to the front of his jeans. "You're hard," she says, with something like approval. "For how long?"

"All day, on and off," he admits.

She smiles, giving him a faint squeeze. "Good."

* * *

She pins him to the wall as soon as the door is closed behind them, her lips sucking bruises into his neck, her teeth sinking deep into his collarbone. He tugs at the buttons on his shirt, but her hands slip lower, unbuckling his belt and pulling his jeans and underwear down.

They shed clothing on the way to her bed until he's on his back and she's overwhelming him with breathless kisses.

She pulls a condom from the box in the bedside table and puts it on him. "What are the rules?" she asks.

"No coming until you say I can," he replies.

"That's right," she says. "And tonight, you can't until I've come first."

She slides down around him, and he honestly could come just from that if he allowed himself to. She rocks her hips, drawing him deeper, falling forward until her mouth is near his ear.

"You've been so good all week," she says. "You haven't come once, have you? Just because I asked."

He shakes his head, too lost in driving his hips upwards to meet hers.

"I must say, I loved how eager you were earlier, how desperate you are now. Maybe next time," she says, slipping a hand between their bodies, "we can see how well you can handle two weeks, or three. Would you like that? I think you would. I think if I asked you to, you wouldn't come at all unless I told you to."

He draws her nipple into his mouth, sucking on it while his hand tugs on the other. They move together until she screams, hips stuttering, losing the rhythm.

"Ask me," she whispers.

"May I come, mistress?"

"Beg me for it."

"Please, _please_ let me come, mistress."

"Alright, then," she says. "Now."

Coming then is more relief than pleasure at that point, and he keeps moving through the aftershocks until he falls, weak and boneless, onto the bed.

"That's my pet," she says, moving to let him slide out of her. The loss is almost unbearable. She slips the condom off and knots it with the ease of practice, and Diaval realizes faintly that he's not only still hard, but still needy.

"Um," he says. "I think-"

"What?" she says, raising an eyebrow.

"I think I could go again."

She laughs incredulously. "Insatiable," she says, sitting behind him to let him lean back against her, locking his arms tightly behind him with one arm and wrapping her free hand around his cock.

"Can you blame me?"

"No, but that doesn't mean that you're not."

This time, it comes even faster, and he strains within her hold. "Oh, god, please, pleaseplease-"

"What do you want?"

"I want to come, I need to, _god_ -"

"Come now."

He sags against her, sobbing, come painting his stomach and running over her hand.

He barely feels the tissues she uses to clean them both, or her maneuvering him under the sheets so he can sleep.

"Good week?" she asks.

"The best."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're having trouble picturing that last position, [trustyservant's art](http://trustyservant.tumblr.com/post/89043014715) is pretty close to what I had in my head. :D
> 
> Not that much plot today, just some negotiation and boundary discussion instead.


	4. Kinky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter in particular has things of a triggery nature, and just to reassure everyone, this is in the "things I have researched extensively" category, not the "things I have experienced myself" category. I am very fortunate to have not experienced abuse in the community, but the flip side of that is that _I haven't experienced it_ , and so might make mistakes in writing it. If I haven't treated the subject with the respect it deserves, please tell me so that I can improve it.

The credits to _Sister Act_ are rolling and he's falling asleep with his head on her knee, but he blinks awake when she says, "Would you mind getting me some tea?"

She says "would you mind" as if he'd do anything else, like he doesn't enjoy doing these little things to serve her. He gets up, his knees protesting at the sudden shift in weight, and goes to the kitchen to boil more water.

"Herbal tea or actual tea?" he says, pitching his voice to the other room.

"Herbal," she replies. "Chamomile, if there's any left." By now he knows where the chamomile is kept (upper right hand cabinet, behind the sugar bowl), and he makes two cups, one for both of them.

He's just taken the tea bags out and is putting in the sugar (he doesn't need any, but she likes a single teaspoon) when she calls to him from the living room. "What do you think of collars?"

He carries both mugs in carefully, putting them on the coasters on the coffee table and kneeling once again. "I'd rather not," he says. "I mean, they look good, but-" He gestures to his neck. "I don't like feeling like I'm choking. One of my exes, we tried experimenting with a leash and it was _not_ fun. At all. So, nothing tight up around my throat."

"I see," she says. "Just tight, or anything around the neck at all?"

He makes a face. "I don't even like turtlenecks. And I've yet to see a loose collar. Well, at least one for men."

"Yes," says Mal, grinning, "most day collars tend to be rather feminine."

"Why do you ask?"

"I was thinking about KinkyFest, since it's coming up next week," says Mal. The plans to go have been in the works for a few weeks now, but he'd completely forgotten about it, between work and looking for a new apartment, since his lease is up in a month. "I've been a couple of times, but never with a partner, and some people take a lack of collar as a sign of availability." Her smile is almost feral. "And I want people to know that you are mine." She shrugs. "But it's fine if you don't want to wear a collar. There's plenty of other ways to demonstrate ownership."

"Like what?"

Mal rests her cheek against her hand. "Well, you could carry my things for me. You might kneel if I sit down, or sit fully at my feet. I know some subs always follow two paces behind their dom or whatever, but I prefer being able to see you. Or anything else that you find more comfortable."

"I could do that," says Diaval. "I like the kneeling idea."

"The better for me to pet you, my dear?"

Diaval makes a face. "Not a fan of Little Red Riding Hood, but yes."

Mal laughs. "Really? Why?"

"The Big Bad Wolf scared the shit out of me as a kid," he says. "The teeth, and the idea of getting eaten..." He shudders dramatically.

"Ah," says Mal. "So you would not be into vore, then."

Diaval shakes his head emphatically. "Not in the slightest."

Mal clicks the television off, rising with a rheumatic sigh. "I should get ready for bed. Is it too late for you to drive back?"

"Nah," says Diaval, standing up as well. "It's only eleven, I'll be fine."

"Then I'll see you next week. You should bring a clothes for the weekend, plus whatever cash you want on hand, if you would like anything from the vendors." She kisses his forehead and sees him to the door. "And don't worry about toys," she says. "I have plans."

It's hard for him to focus on the drive home after that.

* * *

The con is like nothing Diaval has ever been to. There's a lot more nudity than he's used to, for one. Not that he has a problem with nudity, but it's different when it's all up close, a variety of bodies of varying ages and sizes with little self-consciousness or modesty. 

One floor is only rows of vendors, all eager for Mal to look at their implements, jewelry, and rope, inviting her to inspect violet wands, bondage rigs, and vampire gloves. Maybe it's because they know Mal and not him, or maybe they know she's dominant by how she carries herself, or perhaps they realize that he's the one carrying the luggage and put two and two together, but they all talk to Mal first, looking her in the eye and hoping to impress her. Diaval is decidedly an afterthought. It's not a bad thing; if anything, it's strangely comforting to let Mal do the talking for them both. 

It's the same the next floor down, where the classes and workshops are. Mal skips the Rope 101 classes in favor of one on hypnotism, while Diaval is permitted to wander into the room next door for a Q&A about female-led relationships. When he rejoins her for a class on therapeutic massage, they're greeted by a short woman with a bob cut and impressive thigh muscles. "I'm Madame Astra," she says, shaking Mal's hand first. "I'm the instructor today."

"Maleficent, and this is Rook," says Mal.

Madame Astra smiles. "Please, take a seat anywhere."

By the end of the hour, Diaval's hands are stiff and tired, but he perks up again when Mal says, "I think the dungeon shouldn't be too crowded. We can try out the new floggers."

Diaval almost can't get there fast enough.

The dungeon is set up downstairs, with an adjacent room for aftercare. The variety of kinks on display is mind-boggling. There's a couple in their forties, the woman in a full horse tack complete with hooves over her hands and feet. There's a small group of college students in front of the suspension cuffs, two guys taking turns beating a girl wearing nothing but a thong. In the roped-off corner with plastic sheeting covering the carpet, a woman is demonstrating needleplay on a line of volunteers.

Mal goes to one of the suspension cuff rigs and inspects it. "I think it's tall enough for you," she says, "but if not, the St. Andrew's cross is open, though I-"

"Mallory?" says a voice behind them. Diaval turns first. It's a man, maybe in his early thirties, with grey starting to streak his brown hair and beard.

"It  _is_ you!" says the man. "I almost didn't recognize you with your hair grown out."

"Stefan," says Mal. Her expression shifts subtly, going from genuine excitement to a smooth mask of politeness. "It's been a while. I didn't know you would be here."

"Ordinarily I wouldn't," he says, "but I had a business trip in the area, and who says I can't take some time off for myself?"

"Indeed."

"So this is where you ended up! You never returned any of my emails-"

"I was busy."

"You were always so driven." Stefan beams at her, teeth unnaturally white. "Well, aren't you going to introduce us?"

The back of Diaval's neck prickles. _  
_

"This is Diaval," says Mal. "My submissive." She subtly stresses the word _submissive_ , a faint challenge behind her perfectly expressionless face.

Stefan looks from her to Diaval and back again before laughing. "Well, I can't say I thought you had it in you."

"I don't follow."

"Well, you always needed a strong hand, didn't you? I just never pegged you for-"

"Sir?" The newcomer is a woman, a blonde easily ten years Stefan's junior. A smooth ring of steel encircles her neck, with no lock or catch that he can see. She doesn't make eye contact with any of them, instead looking demurely at her feet.

"Leila, my girl," says Stefan, by way of introduction. "Leila, this is Mallory. We're old friends. And this is..." He fumbles artfully, waving a hand in an almost dismissive fashion.

"Diaval," says Diaval.

"Pleased to meet you," says Leila to the floor.

"We've been together for almost a year and a half, now," says Stefan.

"How sweet," says Mal.

"Were you about to do a scene?" asks Stefan. "I'm sorry to interrupt."

"We were, but we'll have to come back later. We had a long drive and we need some time to relax," says Mal, and there's a hard edge there, a razor blade beneath the silk of her politeness.

"Of course," says Stefan, though his indulgent smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Perhaps you would like to talk more later, catch up on things?"

Mal's smile is brittle. "We'll see how much time we have."

* * *

Back in their hotel room, Mal sits heavily on the bed, head in her hands. Diaval stands to the side awkwardly, unsure.

"So," he says eventually, "who was that guy?"

Mal sighs. "An ex. I... He's not someone I like talking about."

Diaval sits on the bed next to her, carefully, no sudden movements. "Okay." He remembers the scars on her back, the two identical lines, and realization dawns. "Is he the one who-"

"Yes." She stares at her hands, twisting them, not looking at him.

"I'm not... I haven't always been a domme," she says, slowly, like a confession. "I'm a switch. And Stefan used to be my dom."

"He was... amazing, actually, when we first started out, fuck, I can't believe I still- we'd known each other for years, even before we started dating. Adding kink just fit what we already had."

Mal takes a deep breath. She's not looking at him, or at anything, really: her gaze is resolutely fixed on the wall.

"We were doing a pretty intense scene. We'd just been doing spanking, sometimes a bit of flogging or cropping, but he wanted to try using something more whiplike. I wasn't sure, since we'd never done it before and he'd only taken the one class on how to use any sort of whip properly, but he kept asking and asking and I just... I got tired of saying no.

"It was fine at first, but then he got really into it. He started hitting me too hard, more than I could handle. I safeworded. And he didn't stop." She takes a shaky breath. "Even when I started bleeding, he didn't stop. I didn't even think to scream or anything, I just shut down and waited for it to be over. He... he was always shit at aftercare." Her laugh is quiet, sardonic. She gestures to her back. "The rest were more like hard scratches, but those two were the deepest. Sometimes I think he did it on purpose, to mark me permanently, but even if he didn't, well, it's not like he cared when he saw them.

"Most of the people in our local scene were friends with him. There wasn't anyone to go to. And I wasn't up to trying to explain to the police the difference between consensual hitting and what he'd done. So I just-" Her hands are shaking. She's still staring at the wall.

"Looking back, there were signs. Giving me tasks he knew I would fail so he could punish me. Making me feel guilty for safewording. But it wasn't until then that I knew I had to leave him. I was lucky. I was able to move out of state, get a better job, have a career, act like it was a normal breakup. I'm sure he thinks that he was perfectly reasonable about the whole thing. And I haven't subbed or bottomed for anyone since."

There's a long silence.

"What do you need me to do?" asks Diaval.

"I don't know. Mostly I just want to sleep."

"Okay," says Diaval. Then, "Do you mind me being in the same bed as you?"

Mal lets out a laugh, maybe a sob. "Just don't press up behind me."

She falls asleep first. Diaval, on top of the covers, doesn't sleep for hours; instead, he listens to the traffic outside and doesn't think of anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diaval shares my distaste for tight things around my neck, and my disappointment that most day collars are very feminine. [Gorgeous](https://www.etsy.com/listing/128068839/bdsm-day-collar-o-ring-and-dungeon-key?ref=shop_home_active_2) [and](https://www.etsy.com/listing/209179353/gold-plated-chain-brass-pendant-for?ref=shop_home_active_10) [sparkly](https://www.etsy.com/listing/122449261/discreet-slave-day-collar-locking-heart?ref=shop_home_active_1), but feminine.
> 
> KinkyFest is based on [GKE](http://www.thegeekykinkevent.com/) and [GKE:NE](http://geekykinknewengland.com/), but there are plenty of similar events, including [Shibaricon](https://shibaricon.com/).
> 
> All the scenes at KinkyFest, the interaction between Mal and Stefan excluded, are things I have seen or experienced in real life. Being perceived as dominant, I find, is a bit like what I imagine being a man is like: everyone expects you to be in charge, everyone turns to you first. It's refreshing, and actually kind of fun, but a bit nerve-wracking for an introvert like me. Madame Astra is based on a real person who I have a hopeless crush on despite only having met her once. Mal introduces them using their scene names, which people tend to use if they want anonymity. Etiquette usually means that [you call people what they want to be called, even if it seems silly to you.](http://pervocracy.blogspot.com/2011/04/how-to-get-into-bdsm-short-version.html) She later introduces them by their real names to Stefan, since there's no need for anonymity.
> 
> Leila is wearing an [Eternity Collar.](http://www.eternitycollars.com/)
> 
> Allow me to reiterate once again that I have not experienced abuse in the kink community. Writing this was very difficult and I'm still not entirely sure I did it right, so if I did anything awful pleasepleaseplease tell me so I can fix it.


End file.
